


My Brother, My Friend

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Hogwarts Era, The Quidditch Pitch: From Diagon Alley to Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-08
Updated: 2006-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10811889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ginny finds more than just a sibling in the common room late at night.





	My Brother, My Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer:  These characters and situations do not belong to me. :)  


* * *

My Brother, My Friend

Last night I went down to the common room, hoping to find my Charms book then sneak down to the kitchen for some hot chocolate.  I had woken up in a cold sweat, and I’m pretty sure I had had a nightmare about Tom.  Instead of finding an empty room, I found my brother.  He was almost completely facedown on a table, sleeping soundly.  I could recognize that snore anywhere.  Everyone else had gone on to bed.  As I moved closer, I could see a book lying open near his head.  It was Hermione’s “Hogwarts, A History.”  I laughed quietly.  Hermione must have left it, because Ron would never be caught reading that.  Then I spotted the Martin Miggs comic tucked in the pages. My brother is so strange, yet so predictable.   

I sat across from him, studying his hair and smushed face.  He had always been a heavy sleeper.  I remembered having to share a room with him for a few nights when we were five and six, respectively.  Fred, maybe George, maybe both, had gotten into a row with Charlie and somehow the outside wall of my room vanished.  I didn’t question it.  I had gone to Mum, reported the incident, then promptly went to go play with my Gwenog Jones action figure.  Of course, that was long before Ron broke it.  Anyroad, I had stayed up half the night watching my brother sleep.  He was my hero then, replacing Charlie.  He stirred, tucking his arms under his head.  He had done that back then as well.

Since my start at Hogwart’s, Ron and I had shared a pact not to show public affection for one another.  That had been fine with me.  The summer before his first year here, Ron had completely turned away from me.  Our older brothers had convinced him he was far too old to play with me, so he brushed me off to play rough Quidditch games and fight.  He said I was just a “little girl and he had other things to do.”  Needless to say, Ron lost his hero position.  But after the Chamber incident, that pact had been pushed aside.  At the Leaving Feast, Ron placed me in front of him and shot concerned glances at me the entire night.  He even hugged me on the way up to the Tower.  On the train ride, he carefully held my hand halfway home.  He thought I was asleep.    

The morning after the Shrieking Shack, he caught me in the Common Room and hugged me fiercely before planting an awkward kiss on my hair.  When I heard about previous night’s events and about my brave brother, he once again became my hero-Harry Potter, be damned.  When he returned to Gryffindor tower after the Second Task, he sat next to me on a sofa and looked me in the eye, saying he loved me.  It was the first time in years he had mentioned anything like that.  I cried and hugged him, only to be rewarded with “Geroff me.  It’s not a big deal.”  But I knew it was.

That memory triggered another.  All Quidditch games are important to me, but two in particular stand out. The first is a game of pickup we played in the paddock at the Burrow the summer after my second year.  Ron had told me a secret:  he wanted to be keeper for Gryffindor.  That day he proceeded to block every goal I tried for.  I was proud.  But the second momentous match I remember made me even prouder.  Gryffindor, of course, had been unsurpassed, but my brother was bloody brilliant. When everyone lifted Ron up on their shoulders and sang “Weasley is Our King” I was absolutely bursting with pride.  It made it even better that he caught my eye out of the crowd and winked.    

So I’m a sappy person.  I cherish little moments like that.  I really love my memories of firsts between Ron and myself.  Ron was the one who got me to do accidental magic.  We had been sitting in a tree in the woods behind the Burrow, and he had made me furious.  Since I tend to lose my head in an argument, I completely lost control.  Somehow, I managed to Vanish his tongue.  He was yelling one second, and then there was complete silence the next.  He got this horrible look on his face and jumped from the tree, opening and closing his mouth like a frog.  I nearly fell from the tree myself, laughing at the buggering idiot.  Mum scolded me only after she finished rejoicing over the fact that her baby girl was indeed magical.  

Aside from being a prat and getting me into trouble, Ron has been an excellent brother.  He taught me how to play chess, helped Bill and Charlie teach me to punch (even after he realized he was there to be the punchee), kept my secret about losing Bill’s hieroglyphic map, and carried me to Mum when I fell out my window.  He took care of me, protected me, and was my best friend for nearly 10 years.  

He shifted again, and I could see the ugly scars those brains in the Ministry left.  He’s growing up.  Now he’s fighting Death Eaters instead of me.  He has two great best friends, and more courage than he lets on.  He’s still my hero, and everybody was quite correct --Weasley is our king.

“Ron,” I whispered.  

There wasn’t any movement. 

I leaned across the table and shook his arm.  “Ron, get up, it’s really late.  You should get in bed.”  

He grunted.  So I shook him again.

“Geroff meh, I’mb sleebink,” he mumbled.  

I smiled and shook again.

“Ron, please get up.  You need to go up to the dormitory.”

He finally lifted his head and cracked his right eye a fraction.  “Hmm,” he mumbled again.   

“You fell asleep down here.  Go up to your bed.”

“Oh,” was his reply.  He got up and started to stumble to the stairs, but stopped abruptly and came back.  He patted my shoulder groggily.  “Thanks for waking me up.  Night, Gin.”  Then he was gone.  

“Night Ron,” I had whispered into an empty room.  I slept better the rest of the night, dreaming of my brother, who was also my friend.  

 


End file.
